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Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2010 with funding from 

Lyrasis Members and Sloan Foundation 


established 1901 

Delaware Valley College of Science and Agriculture 
Doylestown, Pennsylvania 18901 

Spring 1982 




Tillie Docalovich 
Helen Fitting 
Gail Garthwaite 
Lorraine Gerus 
Linda H. Hahn 
Nancy Schnetzer 
Dan Schwalm 
Jane Smeallie 

THE GLEANER is a student 
publication, and those opin- 
ions expressed within are not 
necessarily those of THE 
GLEANER staff. Neither the 
college nor the staff will 
assume responsibility for 
plagiarism unknowingly 

occuring within. 

Literary Work 

Karl Bachman 
Jill Bitner 
Eva Brunt 
Dorothy Combes 
John Casillas 
R. C. Chambers 
Tillie Docalovich 
Helen Fitting 
Lorri Gerus 
Linda H. Hahn 
Karen Kerner 
Lisa Merklein 
Elizabeth Postma 
Lucy Pepper 
Wanda Perugini 
K. H. R. 
Susan Richart 
Carl Vivaldi 
Missy Young 


Jill Crisan 
Helen Fitting 
Brenda Givler 
Linda H. Hahn 
Dennis McLaughlin 
Jackie Mento 
Wanda Perugini 
Dan Schwalm 
Robin Shoup 
Arlene Stein 
Barbara Taft 
Missy Young 


Wanda Perugini 
Nancy Schnetzer 
Donna Smyth 
Steve Stanford 


Doug Bereczki 


Dan Schwalm 

Look at the sun, 

Struggling with his cloudy barrier 
Attempting to hold these 
Free-flowing, wispy vagabonds 

against their will, 
Trying to fi?c a permanent pattern 
Upon the amorphous slate 

of the sky. 

Doesn't he realize 

that clouds can't be molded? 

They seep through the cracks 
Billowing forth in anger, 

And drift silently away- 
trailing your hopes behind them. 

Doesn't he know? 

If only he would stop 

fighting them, 
And let them float freely, 
They would soon gather together 

-without a struggle- 
And pattern themselves 
After the shape of his dreams. 

-Lisa C. Merklein 

The Vagabond 

He S gone to commune 
with the man-in-the-moon 

Where his thoughts, like his footsteps, will wander- 
\ vagabond roaming in search of a tune 
humming melodies lovers can ponder... 

Down pathways of fate 
shadowed ebony slate 
Through mazes of grey starlit mist- 
Befuddled and blind 
the heart leads the mind 
I smiled in my dreams when we kissed... 

Helm Pitting '82 


Nancy Schi • 

Meadow View 

Bronzed weed stalks, stand seedless- 
Speechless testimony. ...Summer wishes. 
Dream in solitude. 

Crows wing westward, sundown whispers- 
Silence eavesdrops.... Winter wistful.... 
Sunshine memories.' 

Footsteps crunching, crystal 
Stillness beckons. . . . Seasons witness. . . . 
Landscape fan tasy. 

Helen Fitting '82 

Dennis McLaughlin 




Middle Mountain Melody 

l walk through a meadow path, 
in the moonlight- 
Lantern in hand guiding me 
with it's flame- 

The earth clings to my bare, dewy feet, 
as I walk, 

as I walk, 
down this small meadow path. 

I walk through a meadow path, 
in the moonlight- 
Flower scents hint at their 
colors and shapes- 
Which the morning sun will reveal, 
as I walk, 

as I walk, 
down this small meadow path. 
-Helen Fitting 



We live separately 

but together 
We grow on our own 

but share our growth 
And we love 

intertwining our souls 
for this moment in time 
Jill Bitner 



I'm torn between summer 

and winter 
Tangled between the sun and 

the rain 
I'm caught in a tempest 

of love 
Destined for a whirlwind 

of pain 

K. //. H. 

Missy Young 

"Oh - gee." That was my half of the conversation. Conversation. Doesn't 
that mean two people are talking. 

Once again I was stuck in one of those one - way conversations where I 
had no idea what the other person was saying. I had asked a simple 
question like, "So how's school?" and it ended up with his rambling on 
about his calculus class. 

"My one class is a real drag. We have to memorize Einstein's theory about 
elevation which is carbon dextrose over Tf divided by l/8th of the 
difference thats' equal to . . ." 

I couldn't take it. I was lost after the first carbon what - you - call - it. So to 
amuse myself I watched his expressions while he talked. It was funny. 
Whenever he said a word with a "p" in it, his nose crinkled up. Then when 
he said words with a "c" it them he would pull his eyebrows together. I loved 
it when he said the word "perception" because his nose and eyes moved 
simultaneously. His lips were lazy and didn't move much; they just sort of 
hung there. 

Suddenly, the rambling noise stopped. Quickly I looked into his eyes. He 
was staring at me waiting. I searched my memory. What was the last word 
he had said? I bet it was a question. I think the word was "you." Maybe he 
asked, "How about you", or something. Trying to play it safe I smiled and 
said, "yeah." 

He looked at me oddly. I knew I had said the wrong thing. I had to think of 
something fast to get me out of this one. I glanced down at my wrist. Good 
thing I had put my watch on that morning. 

Trying to sound believeable I said, "Oh, look what time it is! Look, I have 
to be going. Well, it sure has been nice talking to you. Bye !" 

Well, I make it out of that one but I promised myself I'd never let that 
happen again. I'll try and pay more attention next time. 

Linda H. Hahn 

Nancy Schnetzer 

/ he girl sits silent, 

\et her- emotions spill from her eyes like words, 
forming sentences, and paragraphs going into the 

volumes that describe what a complex person 
the girl really is. 

I he emotions jlow down her jure, 

spilling onto the pages into small puddles, 

lliiil blot ,md blur the words, seeking to keep 
.mvone who tries from reading them. 

i mil 




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Robin Shoup 

Evening Rain 

She brushed away the wisp of hair from her eyes with the back of her 
soapy hand. Although the steam from the water rose and made her flush 
with heat, the woman took comfort in washing clean her dishes. It gave her 
a few quiet moments to reflect on the happenings of the day, or of her life in 

The woman, in her task, watched from the window the world that 
surrounded her home. She saw that dusk was falling earlier than usual. The 
sun was slowly being obscured by the heavily ladened storm clouds that 
came with the heat of summer. She watched the stirring breeze lift and 
disturb the leaves of the oaks in the farmyard. In the distance she noticed 
the billowing dust from her husband's pick up as it rolled down the back 
road that went to town. 

Far off thunder threatened and rumbled, but still no rain fell. They needed 
the rain, for it would give the parched earth that one last drink it needed to 
yield a good crop for the year. It would comfort her to know that something 
was turning out right in her life on the farm. 

Darkness came quickly, and the woman could no longer follow the trail of 
the truck. It was as if someone had pulled a curtain down to block out 
reality, and this left her mind to wander freely. Her husband had told her 
just before he had left that he was going to town to drink a few beers. But, 
now she could only wonder it this were true. She thought maybe he was 
seeing another woman. 

The more she pondered on this thought the more her despair over her 
life grew. Life on their farm had been tough. The harsh midwestern sun, 
along with other elements of life, had dried out her skin, robbing her of the 
beauty that once had attracted so many. When she had married her man 
she had felt she had made the best choice a woman could make. But now 
she felt ugly because her husband no longer looked at her with light in his 

A drop or two fell from her eye and splashed in the dishwater. She looked 
up to see not only was it raining on the inside but it was raining outside as 
well. The fresh scent of the storm drifted in and filled her body with a 
calmness. Perhaps if the rains did well then maybe there was hope. She 
sighed as she rinsed the last of the dishes. 

Lorri Gerus 

Two soft, brown, spongy plateaus 
of baked, yeast raised starches. 
One plain blanketed with off white 
sheets of soft- ripened coagulated protein caseins 
I he other- painted deliberately with smooth, 
glossy, ochre-yellow herb paste hitting 
the taste buds after consumation 
with a tangy, tart, creamy, spongy, salty, 
spicy, and delightfully tasty sensation. 
\ clieese sandwich'/'.':' 
-Ctrl \ ivaldi 


Arlene Stein 

Traveler in the Dusk 

The battered coat 

Whispered softly of better days 

And its words like its pride, 

Were lost in the scuffle of tired feet 

Along a dusty road. 

It hung in dulled- scarlet folds 

On shoulders slumped 

Under a burden too heavy 

For any mortal to bear alone. 

Tattered sleeved and buttonless 

It clung. 

Serving some ancient chivalric code. 

Or perhaps, it was unwilling to face the scorn 

Of another man less attached 

To a bit of moldy cloth 

The tales it told were of lords and ladies 

and laughter, 

Of balls and banquets 

and beauty; 

Of things that were and would never be again. 

Things that did not matter now- 

Now that the sun had gone 

And the rain had begun to add its chorus 

To the rhythm of the road. 

Wanda M. Perugini 

Jill Crisan 

oft atidUoip ty a 
sea <$ nuplkri&s. 



Wanda Perugini 


The Spirit Deer 

Arrow in the wind, tell me, where are you flying now? 
Where are you flying to? 
I will follow you... 

Deer of the wood, tell me, what are you fleeing from? 
Where are you fleeing to? 
I will follow you... 

Arrow you are still, 

Red blood is trickling, where is it running to? 

Deer you are still, 

Breathing a last breath, where is it going to? 

I will follow you... 

...follow you... 

-Helen Fitting 

Linda H. Hahn 

-I 5sO«E3a 

Pine Canyon 

Walking alone in the desert at night 

Down by the Rio Grande 

Milky Way's brighter than New York Street lights 

Reflect on the Texas sand 

And I'm going back up to Pine Canyon 
The ravens are calling my name 
The giants that live up in Pine Canyon 
Are evergreens older than man. 

I spend a week down in Mesquite Country 
Prickley Pear tugging my punts 

>>tr deamon'a surrounding my head 
i need s finer fragrance 

So i m going back up to Pine Canyon 
The ravens are calling my name 

i left a woman up Pine I anyon 
Ami i wish I was with her m evergreen hind 
I wish I was with her again 
^ art Bat hman 

Arlene Stein 

/ like to pick them asparagi shoots 

I hunt em in the morning 

Wear my harvesting boots 

They're growing so I pick em 

Our relationship is root 

I love to pick them Asparagi shoots 

I love to cook them Asparagi stalks 

I take em home and steam em 

Right on top a my wok 

There's tender, big - I seen em 

I snag em when I walk 

How I love to cook them Asparagi stalks 

Don't believe it if ever I said 

That I won't eat the wild ones 

Go to the supermarket instead 

But I pick and eat 'em when I'm walking 

Guess that makes me a head 

And I'll eat that wild Asparagrass right up 

'till I'm dead 

Karl Bachman 

Helen Fitting 

Mama, you say you're loving 

Mama, you say you care 

But mama don't you go a shoving 

Mama don't you ever dare. 

Mama you say I don't have patience 

Mama you say I never will 

But did you ever define patience 

Maybe you had better still. 

Because screaming and yelling I just don't consider 

Patience-that just isn't it 
Peace and quiet and gentle chatter 

Patience-that is how it fits. 
Mama I may never bear children 

But it isn't cause I dont care 
Because Mama I dont want children 

If they're more than I can bear. 
Because Mama there just isn't room 

In this world for screams and fights 
Love and kindness should be entered 

Into homes both day and night. 
So Mama don't you ever tell me 
That I don t know my own mind 
Because Mama I have grown up seeing 
All the others of your kind. 


Jill Crisan 

To whom it may concern 

Or those who may just be passing by, 
I shot myself today. 

Why I did it, I'm not sure. 
But nobody seemed to care, 

For I was the quiet one, 
The one who had no fun. 

For I thought learning was more important 
But now I know I was wrong. 

Missy Young 

Dennis McLaughlin 

/ was a wild stallion 

Thundering through the wind with my heart 

Free among the endless canyons of time, 

YOU caught me with vow- sweets & kindness 

And your love 1 returned. 

Yet you frighten me with your saddle 

For I am young unit unsure 

it doesn t quite fit yet. 

You ve captured my heart but myfirey 

lilood runs on. 

I would not be whole without it 

So m) heart must fallow. 

Please let go of the reins that hold 

us together 

Just enough to let me feel the wind 

Through the eanyons once more. 

My eyes have not seen all that they 

long for. 

I only ask that you leave your corral 

For one day mv fire will die. 
ai\d I feel that your saddle 
May yet fit me. 
Don t worry, III never loose 
Mv taste for your sweets. 

4 •_- 

Jackie Mento 

Jill Cnsan 

An International Language 


Doesn t it feel good? 

It tickles my tummy 

putting a smile on my face 

It makes me feel funny 

Pick up your spirits 

forget about your worries 

make someone else feel better 

Laugh, chuckle, giggle 

In anv language it's the same thing 

So when you're feeling down and out 

and you just don't feel so fine, 

LAI '('.H, i do it all the time... 

( nil Vi\ -ilili 






Young Arthur found himself wandering alone. Never before had 
he been totally alone. Never before had he been away from his 
family, except for those few times he was with a sitter. A noise from 
behind startled him. He thought it might be his mother, and felt 
relieved because he did not know where she was. But no, if he 
didn't know where he was (not even recognizing the area), how 
could she? Perhaps he had gone with Becky, next door, and not 
remembered. No, certainly he would not forget if Becky had been 
with him. Fear began to set in, and it grabbed his loneliness - his 
stomach was upset. Afraid to run and more afraid to stay, Arthur 
took a few small steps away from the direction of the sound while 
turning towards the crackling branch. 

His face was flushed. He could see his grimy jeans with a hole in 
the right knee, and his shirt tails half out. His small body never 
seemed so small before - it must have seemed so then because of 
the tall forest surrounding him. 

Before he could focus on the image, he tripped over what 
seemed like a boulder. The fall caught him more than the noise did 
before, and his tears drew some specks of soil to his face. The dir' 
stained his golden blond hair and his fair, tanned face. Realizing 
his previous concern Arthur turned his face from the ground to see 
a rabbit. It was much smaller than he had imagined it to be. As 
he noticed the cleaness of its fur and the distinct brown markings 
interwined with the innocent whiteness, he had a feeling of 
contentment which most children don't experience or realize. 

After what seemed to be a long time, a soft, gentle voice 
whispered, "Do you like him, Arthur." A boyish grin told all as his 
bright blue eyes beheld the beautiful creature and he said, "I've 
always wanted one." Looking up, he saw his mother, "Happy 
Birthday, Arthur," she said softly, as a tear came to her eye from his 
delight. The small bunny nuzzled in the comforter of his bed, next 
to his side. His Mother hated to disturb the precious aire which was 
created, and she wondered why he was so calm. Finally, she 
hugged him and said, "Now then, it's time to get ready for school." 




Missy Young 

here i am: 

filled with a clouded mind 
seeking to save what i do not know is lost 
striving to hold on to things i cannot touch 
straining to see things which are 


there they are: 

filled with uncontrollable laughter, at nothing 

wondering how they can find so many tears - empty drops 

finding answers over tavern tables which last till the next day 

has come 

feeling that they are almost 


I am that I am: 

filled with a dark, scintillating depth of shallow, 
undying love 

seeking to same fallen Spirits - like filling cups 
with no sides 

ever-emanating clear beams of Contented Images 


immersed in the insurmountable treasures of fata 


i want that I am so i can finally know, Please. 

invisible light to have uncontrollable Laughter at something - 


-John Casillas 


I look at you both sitting there 

Your hand gently playing with her hair. 

It should be me not her. 

1 see you as you walk on by 

All the time I wonder why 

I am a fool, drowning from 

your happiness. 

Dammit why can t you see, 

the love behind these hazel eyes 

gone green? 


Silver & Gold 

Gaze into my eyes 

search the depths of my soul 
Deep within lies a treasure 

you alone can unfold. 

My heart is a tapestry 

vivid chambers enlaced 
With mosaic memories 

that time cannot erase. 

And yet etchings of silver 

in the finest of thread 
Laced with light, hold a glimmer 

hinting words yet unsaid; 

As our colorful patterns 

of life intertwine 
I feel the strength of a love 

words have yet to define, 

And my unraveling tapestry 

is woven anew 
Interlaced with the golden 

inscription of you. 

Lisa C. Merklein JillCrisan 


living in a soft white blanket of nothingness 
uninhibited, save the whispers from beyond 
i listen and then try - they control and comfort me 

lurking underneath are black clouds, filled with rage - immersed 
in dismal diamonds 

they reach forward, ever forward 
for more 
for some they stream down from the sky 

(reaming down a character) 
like swift terrible torrents of uninhibited rain drops 
(uninhibited joy?) 
a philistine heart collects and builds a brilliant kingdom... 

...on sand 
for others, a tide of grief sweeps through their 
members daily 

and all walk on the same massive ball, different levels to be sure, 

some never to meet 

listen red, never to meet 

listen white, never to meet 

and minds will be filled with black and white, black diamonds and 
white grief 


but it's all grey, soft white blankets enveloping beautiful, glorious, 
celestial, brilliant, ever-shining moderate grey 

uninhibited joy! 

John Casillas 

Nancy Schnetzer 

The Party is Over 

Lonely, soft notes linger through the air 
A half-drunk soda sheds tears upon the table 
Three solemn crackers, one slightly shattered 
lay scattered among a few hard lumps of 
A stray, forlorn blue sweater slumped, 
cries for its owner. 
A family of delighted ants prances 

about a new-found feast of crushed 
potato chips. 
Finally, slowly, warm water 
oozes from a clean rag... 

Karen Kerner 

The Pencil 

An old pencil sharpened to a 
stub, and marks indented 
from being chewed on. 
Eraser erased til there is no 
more, with a hard-as-rock 
film on top. 

Gold plating rubbed off to a 
dull silver. 

No w you tran sfo rm yo u r 
ugliness into something 
even more dastardly, 
such as nasty words on a 
restroom wall or 
in a subway station. 
Now you transform 
all of your putridity ■ 
into something beautiful. 

R. C. Chambers 

Jackie Mento 


Whirling, twirling, down they swirl. 

Vailing, floating, loftly down. 

Crunching, crackling, beneath my feet 

like a shag carpet wall to wall along the street. 

With a gust of wind they are blown away. 

Gone tomorrow, but fun today. 

■I illii' Docalovich 

Nancy Schnetzer 

Hazel eyes 

Hold a blank stare 

refuse to meet mine 
refuse to acknowledge 

That I am here. 

A lazy smile 

Used to melt the coldness 

of that expression 
Used to put a sparkle 

into those hazel eyes 
Used to warm 

my heart. 
Where has it gone? 

Flipped a switch 

or turned a page 
And I am lost. 

Please be my friend- 
come find me. 

-Lucy Pepper 

Helen Fitting 




Everyone knows that wishes don't come true; 

But still, no one can resist the temptation 

to make just one more for good hick. 

Everyone knows that wishes don't come true; 
the) fust turn into dreams mill fade awav into 
the dark dreary past, ne\er to he heard of again. 

Everyone knows that wishes don't come true; 

Hut still they wish, clinging on till the 

end ol lime, that mavhe just this 
nine, the im/iossihle will iome true. 

I ill. i- Dm alovu h 


The Knife 

It hurt to feel that knife you drove into mv 

It was not blood that flowed, but tears 

upon my cheek. 
I felt its point behind me and yet it 

pierced my soul. 
The wound is healed now, but not the pain 

it caused; 
For you left a scar that can't be seen 

deep within my heart. 
-Susan Richart 

Nancy Schnetzer 

Onarinq a. zAouoAi 

a foneZzj ?ttt7e feeti™ 

Cl so?z'za+-zs eTnoifo-n-- 
/ At's tt/or/cC fias oone astray 
m V Mine/ Aas followed 

crwmdr'no each mcrmeTtL 

SeariAiTiO for &at /as/ &t&. 


To a used-to-be friend 

You were my friend, but where are you now? 

We once laughed together, it seems so long ago. 

We could talk for hours and there's only silence between 

us now. 
We could share our secrets once, but they're forgotten too. 
The times we spent together are now spent alone. 
The soft, kind words have grown cold and callous. 
We knew each other well and now we're total strangers. 
We had a used-to-be friendship, or was it just a dream? 
I've said all I could, but the words were meaningless. 
Ive done all I could and my ejfors have failed. 
I value those yesterdays that remain inside of me. 
Because I can't stop caring. I can't stop remembering 

what used-to-be. 
Sometimes I wonder if you care at all or if you 

even remember; 
Then I see you today and I know that you couldn't. 
But, what does it matter how I feel? I'm 

Just a used-to-be friend. 
The hurt is still there, but you'll never know. 
I used to feel sorry for myself once— -but 

Now it is YOU who I feel sorry for. 

A Lost Friend 

-Susan Richart 

Jackie Mento 


' ( V*&.iU (■ 


/// Had A Rocket Ship 

If I had a rocket ship 

I'd blast right out of here 

Set a straight course for the stars 

and split the atmosphere 

Stop on the moon to whistle a tune 
and groove on the gravity 
Jump all around come tumbling down 
In a lunar cavity 

If I had a rocket ship 

It would surely raise a smile 

I'd say "hello" to the galaxy 

And goodbye'' to the earth for awhile 

Stop on mars to check out the bars 
Ask a pretty martian to dance 
strike up the band and sing in the sand 
mars has two moons for romance 

If I had a rocket ship 
what fun it would be 
I'd pretend to be John Glen 
and sip Tang at zero "G " 

I'd track down Haleys comet 
to see if Haley's hanging around 
proceed to the local planet 
and comence to paint the town 
If I had a robket ship 

-Carl Vivaldi 

8 ■ E 




/ cion'f wanf 
Any fancy words 

expensive presents 
hard to keep promises 
Keep things simple 
Just give me 
\ smile and a rose. 
Wanda \i Perugini 

Wanda Peruginl 

Steve Stanford 

\nd the seagulls fly, 
rhefish swim, 

The waves crush against the rocks, 
Ami here I am..., 

Hone thinking, 
Where am / going? 
What about the future? 
What about the past 

Life was so easy then, 
urd decisions, no problems. 
Just happy play, 
And laughing and singing... 
.... But then it came time to grow up, 
Making decisions that sometimes hurt so 
High school, new friends, lost loves, 
New responsibilities, new challenges, and 
.... But the seagulls still fly, 
The fish still swim, 

The waves still crash against the rocks, 
And here I am.... 

i\ C. Chambers